Though I am native to this frozen zone <br />That half the twelvemonth torpid lies, or dead; <br />Though the cold azure arching overhead <br />And the Atlantic's never-ending moan <br />Are mine by heritage, I must have known <br />Life otherwhere in epochs long since fled; <br />For in my veins some Orient blood is red, <br />And through my thought are lotus blossoms blown. <br />I do remember . . . it was just at dusk, <br />Near a walled garden at the river's turn <br />(A thousand summers seem but yesterday!), <br />A Nubian girl, more sweet than Khoorja musk, <br />Came to the water-tank to fill her urn, <br />And, with the urn, she bore my heart away!<br /><br />Thomas Bailey Aldrich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/reminiscence-3/
